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Riley Aventine (amulius) wrote,

Even though he'd been preparing for it his whole damn life, Riley hadn't been entirely prepared for the changes that had come to him now that he was pack leader. He had thought that once he'd managed to rip out Dean Hartwick's throat clear out of his neck and scared off the rest of his dumbfuck brothers, he would be leader and that would be that. He knew that there were responsibilities, his grandpappy had always told him that, but lately, things had gotten crazy, and he was man enough to admit it to himself and at least one other. He had just never imagined that he would be admitting it to a fuckin' vamp. Members of his pack had been going missing; at first he hadn't been concerned at all, it was just a couple of weaklings, people with enough foolish thoughts in their heads to get themselves run over by a car or picked off by a hawk midflight. But then two had turned to four and four had turned to ten, and that was too many.

He padded towards the meeting place he had arranged with the leader of the local vamps, every running step that he took with his wolf pads was a struggle. He was a shifter, secrecy was bred into him, and it almost hurt to come closer to a vampire that was waiting for him. A vampire with just the same problems as he - there were vampires missing, too. Three, at least. And even if his sources had been wrong, he still had to talk to that man. Non-man. Dead thing. Vampire. Riley shook his great big head and snorted as he ran. He had been taught how to handle vamps, straight eye contact and a few clear, concise words. No growling or hollering like his family did with one another. And no wrestling or biting, even if that was how he and his kin liked to say hello. It was in his nature to express his dominance now, even just as a greeting. He had to control himself.

Riley came to a trot and then to a halt under a tree that was lush with foliage, his nails dug deep into the dirt. He scratched a little at the deep dark tree trunk, trotted in a circle, and then began to shift. It only took a matter of seconds. As a human, he was an obviously able-bodied man in his mid thirties, with hard muscles on his torso and a thick neck. He was blue-eyed, with a crop of blond hair and five o'clock shadow on his stone-solid jaw. He growled and looked down at his left arm and raised it to his lips so that he could gnaw off the twine that tied a small burlap sack to his wrist, dropping it to the ground. His skin was raw and red, but it would heal soon enough. He dressed, too, not as quick as he'd changed. He shoved his feet into his boots as he buttoned up his shirt, and pulled the leaves and twigs out of his hair.

He rubbed the side of his neck as he stepped out of the bushes and into the clearing he had specified. The smell of gasoline and exhaust stung at his unusually sensitive nose, but more important there was the smell of stagnant blood and death and cold. Maybe a little bit of secondhand heat, stolen from some poor human soul who had made unfortunate life choices. A half a second later he saw the vampire standing there, dark as the night. Riley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but he was not afraid.

"Vampire." Riley said, his gaze unwavering, "I am Riley Aventine, son of clan Aventine and of the ancient fire, successor to Dean Hartwick, leader of the East Pack." They were words he had said before, but only to other shifters. He could feel the blood of wolves beating in his chest. It had become so dominant since he'd taken the position of clan leader, it was reminiscent of the great warriors from which he was descended, and it wanted to take him over completely. He wouldn't let it, though, there was still dog and cat and horse and snake and bird inside him. He wouldn't be taken over. He was pack leader and he was strong, and he would face this vampire. Alone.